


Gone For Good

by jackson_nicole



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2274225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackson_nicole/pseuds/jackson_nicole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone is leaving and they aren't coming back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone For Good

Sam helped his brother out of the Impala and into the bunker. As Dean hobbled into his and Jackson's bedroom, Jackson looked up and immediately went over to them, helping Dean to the bed.

"Oh, my God, Dean!" Jackson said, helping Dean tear off the remainder of his tattered shirt, as Sam went to get the first aid kit. "Damnit, Dean. I told you I should have gone with you! You always come back more broken than when I go with you."

Dean sighed. "It's because I care more about you than myself when you go on hunts with us." Dean said. Jackson gave him a look and took the kit as Sam came back over and handed it to her.

"That's bullshit, Dean." She said, pouring alcohol onto a cotton swab and beginning to dab at the cuts on his chest and stomach.

"Jack, I'm fine. You don't need to do this everytime." Dean said. Jackson looked at him.

"Shush. You want these to get infected? It gets infected, it gets into your blood, you get sick and can't hunt. Then what happens?" Jackson said.

"Then I die and one of you idiots make a deal to bring me back and the perpetual cycle begins again." Dean said, half sarcastically, half serious. Jackson sat back and glared at him. Sam saw what was going to happen and left before the claws and fangs came out.

"That's not funny, Dean. You're not going to die. Now shut up and let me help." Dean sighed.  
~  
About an hour later, Jackson had Dean all bandaged up and they began to get ready to sleep for the next week. Well, at least Dean was.

"I just don't understand, Dean. Even when I go on hunts, _BY MYSELF_ , I manage to come back without a single scratch. And you go out, with me AND Sam, sometimes Cas even, and you still get bloody and bruised. I just don't get it." Jackson said, pulling her hair back into a bun. Dean sighed and got under the covers.

"Just drop it, Jackson. Okay? I'm tired of hearing about it." Dean said. Jackson turned to him and put her hands on her hips.

"Don't cop an attitude with me, Dean. I care about you and don't like seeing you putting yourself at risk like that. It's stupid and reckless. What if, God forbid, I had gotten pregnant and we had a kid here? What happens if something happens to you on a hunt? Or what if something tries to get revenge and takes me? You don't think, Dean. And I'm sick of it."

"Well, maybe I'm sick of you and that's why I do it." Dean said, staring at the ceiling. Jackson's mouth fell open in shock and pain. Jackson curled her fists and grabbed the nearest thing to her and hurled it at Dean's face. It was only her hairbrush, but the force behind it left a decent cut on his forehead. "OW! What the fuck, Jackson!?"

Dean sat straight up in the bed and glared at her.

" _ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?_ " She shrieked. "We have been together for 2 years, and I have saved your ass from dying so many times, I've fucking stitched your ass up so many times, and you still go out and get hurt and come back and give me a fucking heart attack, and you're saying you're sick of me?! Sick of what?! Of me caring about you!? Of loving you!?"

"I don't like being told what to do, Jackson! You know this!" Dean said, getting up.

"And I don't?! We're the same person, Dean!"

"Yeah. And I'm surprised we even lasted this long." Dean said. Jackson glared at him.

"So what? Everything we've been through meant nothing to you?" Jackson said in a low, cold voice.

"I never said that, Jackson. But I'm damn sick and tired of this."

" _OF WHAT?!_ " Jackson shrieked. "What could you _POSSIBLY_ be sick of!? I'm concerned and I'm telling you I don't like when you come back like this! How on _EARTH_ is that telling you what to do?!"

"Because you're saying you don't want me to put myself into dangerous situations, which, I'm sorry, it's my fucking job! And you're telling me what to do!" Dean said.

"So what? That's it? We're done? Do you want me gone?" Dean took a deep breath and looked Jackson dead in the eye.

"You know what? Yeah. Leave. Get out. I'm done with this. I don't need, nor do I want you in my life. So get out of it." Dean said. At that moment, all the fight Jackson had left drained from her body. Her body was no longer tense and her face fell, from anger to disbelief and hurt, but Dean didn't care. "And now you'll play the victim. I'm not fucking falling for it this time, Jackson! Get out!"

Refusing to cry in front of this man, at this moment, Jackson turned on her heel and left. Sam rounded the corner, having heard the shouts and came to find out what was going on.

"Hey. Jacks, what's wrong? What happened?" Sam asked, concern chiseled onto his face. Jackson didn't say anything to him, only pushed past him and grabbed her keys and walked out. Sam started to follow her, but decided to check in on his brother. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. "Dean. What the hell happened?"

"She pissed me off, Sammy. I don't like being told what to do." Dean said, not looking up at his brother. Sam sighed.

"Dean, she cares, dude. She's not telling you what to do." Dean looked up at him.

"Really, Sam? You're taking her side? I'm your brother! Your flesh and blood!" Dean shouted. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Dean. I'm not siding with her, I'm telling you the truth. What did you say to her? Why is she leaving?" Sam asked.

"She's not leaving. She's just going to a different room." Dean said, laying back down.

"Um, yeah she is. She grabbed her keys." Sam said. Dean waved his hand, dismissively.

"She's probably just going for a drive. She's not leaving."

Little did Dean know just how wrong he was. The next day, the brothers went out for the day, gathering ammo and other supplies. While they were gone, Jackson came back and gathered her things. She was in the middle of packing the last box when they got back.

"Jackson?" Dean called, carrying his duffle bag down the stairs and setting it on the table. Jackson heard him, but ignored him, packing even faster and trying to get out. She carried the box out into the foyer. Dean turned and blinked. "Jaxa...What are you doing?"

"You said you wanted me out of your life and gone. So I'm going." Jackson said, no emotion in her voice. Dean blinked.

"Jackson, you're not leaving." Dean said. Jackson stopped and looked at him.

"Really, Dean? You're going to tell me what to do after that fucking lecture last night?! You said you wanted me gone and you meant it. So I'm leaving. We're done." Jackson said. Before Dean could say anything else, Jackson was up the stairs and out the door. She shoved the last box into her truck, got in and took off before Dean even made it to the top of the stairs.

"Jackson!" Dean shouted, running out the door. A cloud of dust was all that was left as Jackson's truck got smaller and smaller on the horizon. Dean watched in shock and stood there for another moment or two, then slowly went back inside. Sam looked up as his big brother came down the stairs, a blank look on his face.

"Dean?" Sam said, watching him. Dean didn't respond and went down to his room. He looked around and saw how empty it was now that Jackson's furniture and other belongings were gone. Sam had followed Dean and stopped in the doorway, leaning against the door frame. "Dean."

"She...She's gone." Dean said in disbelief. He slowly sank onto the bed and sat there in a state of complete and utter shock.

"Dean, what the fuck did you say to her?" Sam asked, walking into the room and sitting in a chair across from him.

"I...I told her I wanted her out of my life...That I didn't want her here..." Sam shook his head and gave his brother a look.

"And you're wondering why she's gone?" Sam said. Dean's eyes filled with tears.

"I didn't mean it. I was just frustrated...Now she's gone..." Dean said, his voice breaking slightly. Sam sighed.

"There's nothing you can do at this point, Dean. She's gone. You both got pissed off, you both said some shit you didn't mean, but after so many fights...You're gonna start to think everything that's said it true." Sam said, keeping his voice calm and soft. Dean covered his face and sniffed. Sam went over to his brother and sat next to him. "Dean. It's gonna be okay, dude."

"No it's not, Sammy. I...I love her." Dean said, through his hands.

"Then you needed to prove that to her...Not get pissed off for her being concerned." Sam said. Sam knew Dean knew Sam was right, but right now, this was one thing he didn't want to admit his younger brother was right about. Sam knew how Dean was feeling and decided to give him some time. Sam gave Dean a pat on the back and stood, leaving the room. Dean lifted his head and looked around the room one final time as it finally sank in. She was gone. And this time, she wasn't coming back.


End file.
